Substantial
by Sarah Serena Rose
Summary: "You're not real." He could feel his face pale, eyes widening at Dean's proclamation. Sam questions recent events after collecting the codex. Post Episode: 10x19.
1. Chapter 1

_"You're not real."_

 _He could feel his face pale, eyes widening at Dean's proclamation.  
…_

Sam ran a hand down his face and over his mouth, a slight shake to his movement. He exhaled, feeling the familiar surroundings of the bunker turned Batcave turned new home.

Things had been rocky lately, more so than usual, as Dean was not as well as he was trying to convince everyone. The only upside, was that he had finally gotten the codex, and in turn, hopefully a cure for Dean. If Rowena kept her promise to find the spell in the book of the damned that is, then he would finally have a cure.

He felt guilty however. Lying to his brother, even though he knew it was the only way to save him from the darkness, the evil that the Mark was turning him into. Plus, the hallucinations caused from the Werther box had him on edge. Mainly Dean's reaction.

 _You're not real._

The words that left his brothers mouth when he had been entranced made him want to vomit. How many times….how many times had he asked himself the same question? How many times had he said the same words to the hallucinations of Lucifer years before?

To constantly question everything and everyone around you, never knowing if your own reality was true: it was torture. And he knew all too well.

Sam closed his eyes and put his hands together, resting them against his lips as he leaned on the dark wooden table he was situated at in the library. Being here, in a constant familiar and safe place, it made it easier, it made everything less heavy.

Sure, the weight of their problems may be heavier, the situations that they have themselves placed in, but having a constant to come back to was a comfort. It had been hard for him, to accept the bunker as a home, instead of a workplace. Even Bobby's house was more of a battle zone and work area then a resting place. But there were few sanctuaries that he could find on this Earth, in this lifetime. The bunker may still be where they plotted and researched, but having their own things surrounding them, having a real kitchen, showers and washrooms, a damn library…it was such a comfort.

It made things easier to differentiate when they didn't have to worry about motel rooms and making sure their fake credit cards were all in order, didn't have to worry about not finding a roof to sleep under at all. Not that the Impala wasn't a bad place to sleep _(she was another constant)_ but having an actual bed was a luxury.  
Though, the walls probably wanted to scream of the desolation and destruction that they had brought to this sacred place. To their _home_.

 _Kevin, Gadreel, Dean…_

It was heartbreaking to remember; remember every little piece that had gone wrong and to look at the exact place where everything had gone down. Where he had…

Sam took a deep breath, closing his eyes harder as the onslaught of memories overwhelmed. Everything that had happened was so _real_ , so real it made his whole body ache.

 _You're not real._

God. When Dean had spoken back in Suzie's home, he felt as though the floor had fallen from beneath his feet. He never ever had wanted to hear those three words come from his brother's mouth.

To question if someone was real, it was a dangerous thing. Enough that he almost couldn't take it anymore; that the hallucinations of Lucifer had almost had him…

Sam barked out a slight laugh. The thought was disturbing, all too real, but unattainable. Lucifer had almost made him shoot himself in the head; commit suicide. Exactly what the box had been trying to get them to do.

It was sorta funny, in a delirious kind of way. When he had said years ago that he would kill himself before he would let Lucifer in, he wasn't lying. And neither was the bastard when he said that he would bring him back, clean skin and without scars at all.

Fast forward to four years later and Gadreel had had him questioning whether there was something wrong with him, had him questioning if he was alone in his own body. _God, it made him sick._ The situations were so similar, and Dean, he didn't even realize. The deceit, the betrayal, it hurt so much.  
He didn't see how having an angel forced into his body, _without his consent,_ was so much like Lucifer. Not that he had told his brother about the disturbing flashbacks; Dean certainly had enough to deal with without him slowly losing it as well.

Sam consciously dug a nail into his palm, the white, curved scar that had faded with age.

 _He was real. And so was Dean._


	2. Chapter 2

"Sammy?"

The sudden sound coming from across the room had him start, head whipping up to meet the sight of his brother. He was standing in the entryway, arms crossed and eyebrows scrunched together in that certain way that signaled he was worried about something.

"Dean, hey," he quickly coughed out in acknowledgement, wiping a hand across his mouth before placing them in his lap.

He had been certainly been startled at Dean's appearance, especially given the subject matter that had been playing through his head. His brothers six sense to whenever he was in distress, whether it be physical or mental, though it was mainly the former, was sometimes a bit irritating. That was something that would never _not_ be real.

Dean uncrossed his arms and made his way towards the table. "You alright? You seem a bit cagey."

Sam blinked a few times, hands clenching underneath the table and then gave a passive snort at his brother's statement. "You could say that."

The accompanying eye-roll might have been overkill, but it didn't hurt to try and brush off how affected he was by the phrase. Sue him, delusions about if what you're experiencing is real kinda tend to screw with your head.

Dean's eyes narrowed as he took a seat at the large oak table. "Yeah, I figured. Somehow I don't buy that you're alright though."

Sam sighed, "Pretty sure we've had this conversation before," came out in a terse sentence. He wasn't in the mood after thinking about the tortuous thoughts that had put him through literal hell on earth. And from the fact that he could die multiple times, multiple different ways and somehow be resurrected; it didn't fit into the whole, 'I am living in reality' theory.

Dean had the decency to look away for a moment, probably thinking about how having Gadreel placed inside his body caused him to question if he was ever going to be alright.

"Yeah," he eventually murmured, "Sorry 'bout that."

" _What_?" Sam couldn't help the roughness of his voice when he spoke.

Dean looked a bit put out at his response, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand before continuing.

"I'm sorry. For making you think that you weren't going to be alright, that there was something wrong with you. If I…if I hadn't–

He broke off turning to look at Sam directly, eyes bright. "I'm sorry for letting Gadreel possess you Sam, you didn't deserve that. Especially when I knew you'd never agree with your own free will."

Dean turned away suddenly, "I'm sorry Sam, and I realized when we were driving back how much it was like… how the hallucinations and shit from the box were sorta like, uh…

– Like Lucifer." The words came out of his mouth as though he was in a daze.

 _No no no no_

Sam sucked in a breath. "Shit. No, Dean-you can't…you weren't supposed to know what it was like!"

"Whoa Sam, it's okay –

– No it's not! It's the whole reason I tried so hard to save you from being a demon. You were never supposed to succumb to my fate. What it's like to feel evil, to feel the taint flowing through your veins, to not know _what's real and what's not_ , Goddammit!"

Dean had slowly gotten up during his brother's tirade and went to sit in the chair to his right.

"Hey, hey now, you weren't evil Sam and no matter what you say you aren't tainted or unclean either. It was never your fate Sammy. Not Lucifer, not drinking demon blood, not the death of Mom, Dad or me. Because you know what? You were always going to change fate, no matter if the angels had a path set out for us, you were going to change it, and you did bro. You did."

"But-

-No but's, okay? There's nothing to dispute here man."

Sam took a deep breath and tried to contemplate everything his brother had said. It was all spinning inside his head, the words loud and messy. The fact that Dean had apologized had him choked up, the words that he had needed months ago now splayed out on the table.

"It kinda killed me when you said that the trials were purifying you too."

Sam snapped his gaze up at the welcome intrusion that had calmed the buzzing in his head.

"Dean?"

"I mean, when you said you felt unpure as a kid, I didn't know what to think. And when I realized hours later that you had felt that way still, I also kinda made a mess of the motel bathroom when you were sleeping the fever off. I'm sorry for that too, I mean, you didn't have a reason to feel that way Sam. You are pure and whole and stuff, just…I don't want you to say that again okay?"

Sam ran his hands through his hair, trying to hide the obvious fact that they were shaking. "Where is this coming from?"

Dean leaned forward, silently wishing that he had grabbed those two beers from the fridge, "Well, you seemed off, after we left Suzie's. Probably from the blood loss, but it was more than that. I mean, I freaking thought that I was in purgatory the whole time; I didn't want to imagine where your brain had taken you to get you to off yourself."

Sam paled. _Purgatory?_ What…

"You thought you were in purgatory?"

His brother nodded, "Yeah, saw Benny and everything. It was sorta twisted."

Sam scoffed, "Seemed like it. You kept saying 'You're not real' it had me a bit on edge."

Dean's face softened. "Dude, I know where you're going with this. There's nothing to worry about, because I know that this is real, that you're real."

"But…"

"Again, no buts! You are as real as ever Sam. Sometimes more than I am given this freaking thing on my arm. Well, I guess I'm still real as a demon, I'm just not _me_."

The thoughtful look on his brother's face had Sam snort in half amusement, half fake acceptance. He wanted to believe so much that his brother was beside him, the true Dean, but he knew that his brother could only be released when the damn Mark was off his arm.

"So Samantha, you alright now?"

That earned his brother a thinly veiled glare and a very obvious eye roll.

"I dunno. Kind freaked that one: you actually apologized, and two: you can be so chill about the whole Mark of Cain situation. But I'll take what I can I guess."

"No need to worry about it little bro, I'm good. And Uh, yeah, sorry about the late apology?"

Sam smirked, "You sure you're sorry? That sounded more like a question to me."

Dean sighed heavily, "Yeah, yeah laugh it up. That was hard to do you know! But I still am sorry Sammy."

"I know Dean. I know."


End file.
